A Midnight Vigil
by MarieKavanagh
Summary: After a tedious evening at Malfoy Manor, Orion Black returns home to Grimmauld Place to be greeted by a most unexpected sight.


The faded warmth of the embers of the hearth crunched slightly under Orion Black's feet as he stepped out of the drawing room fireplace of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He tapped his leather shoes against the wooden floor and the few specks of coal dust which had clung to his soles magically disappeared, leaving not a trace of mess. The heavy, late November rain clattered heavily against the tall windows of the drawing room, the wind of the night's storm hurling the drops against the glass with a most unsavoury noise.

Orion sighed.

This was a night for quiet, warm relaxation. A night for a hearty dinner followed by coffee with his wife on the drawing room sofa by the roaring fire, followed by their prompt evening audience with their two young sons to hear a report of the two boys' daily endeavours before they were ushered off to bed by their governess (a meek young half-blood of a girl who was already starting to show signs of stress from dealing with their wilful eldest son), all rounded off with a nightcap of whiskey in the quiet seclusion of his study before retreating to the warmth of his bed.

This was not an evening for card games and brandy within the chilly halls of Malfoy Manor, with a dismal dining affair of canapes, of which there were never enough, accompanied by the tedious jokes of the young men of the Pureblood set to which Orion belonged. But alas, it was Abraxas Malfoy's birthday, and if it was an evening of cards, gambling and thinly-veiled criticism towards one another in the form of teasing jokes that he wanted, then that was what he should have, lest his fondness for the rumour mill lead to weeks of curious whispered speculation as to why the heir apparent of the House of Black had been absent from the evening's proceedings.

Orion was glad to be home.

His mind was just allowing itself to wander towards the tempting thought of that nightcap in his study, when the toe of his shoe suddenly collided with a large, hard lump laid directly in his path before him.

Instantly on alert, Orion automatically drew his wand as he cast his gaze downward to inspect the obstruction. He wordlessly lit his wand and the white light protruding from his wand tip shone upon what appeared to be a bundle of fabric on the hearth rug.

Except, bundles of fabric didn't tend to whimper and rustle when collided with the toe of a shoe. Nor did they have mops of black hair sticking out of them.

Orion peered closer, and realised that the bundle of the floor was in fact Sirius, his six-year-old son, laying curled up in a tight ball on the floor in front of the fire, a blanket wrapped tight around him. Despite his initial whimper upon colliding with his father's foot, the boy remained fast asleep in his tightly curled up position.

Orion sighed to himself in frustration.

As though his tedious evening out had not been inconvenient enough, the powers that be had then decided to present him with the trial and tribulation that was his wilful eldest son to deal with upon his return home. No doubt the boy had sneaked out of bed the moment his mother had retired for the evening and had tip-toed downstairs on goodness knows what mission of mischief, the full effect of which Orion would no doubt discover soon. Perhaps the boy had emptied the pantry of the next day's batch of sugar biscuits again, reserved for afternoon tea. Or maybe he had been attempting to venture out into the year courtyard in search of another rat to hide in his governess's wardrobe for her to find in the morning.

Orion made a mental note to ensure the house elf was suitably punished first thing in the morning for failing to catch his slippery eldest child in the act of escaping from his bedroom. The elf had been warned to keep his bat-like ears sharpened for suspicious noises in the nighttime. And of course, the boy himself would have to be dealt with on the morrow for his crimes, whatever they may be.

But these dealings could be organised later. For now, more pressing a matter was the current situation - curled up and trembling from cold in front of the fireplace was certainly not a suitable state of being for Orion Black's eldest son and heir. This predicament must first be rectified.

With the beam of white light still protruding from its tip, Orion pointed his fir wand at the sleeping boy once more, casting a silent desensitising spell on Sirius to keep him asleep whilst he was transported. The last thing the wizard needed was his son awaking during his father's mission to return him to bed in a fit of the hysterics, the likes of which he was so unfortunately prone to.

Orion then bent down to scoop his son up into his arms, but paused, however, when his ears were met with a most unusual rustling sound from under the blanket in which the boy had wrapped himself. Peeling back the material from around his son, Orion found a piece of crumpled parchment clutched tight in Sirius's hand.

Furrowing his brow in curiosity, Orion eased the parchment out of the boy's grip and smoothed it out to inspect it. Orion instantly recognised the familiar shapes of several constellations, shakily sketched out on the parchment in pencil; Canis Major, with the star Sirius drawn larger to emphasise it's brightness, the constellation Leo, with it's brightest star, Regulus, drawn similarly larger than the rest, and finally, his own constellation, the Hunter - Orion.

After celebrating his sixth birthday several weeks earlier, Sirius had begun his proper pre-Hogwarts tutoring. As was customary with all Blacks, the eager young schoolboy had begun his lessons with the study of the noble and ancient house of which he was bound by blood to preside over one day. An eager and bright young thing, Sirius had lapped up the chance to put his boundless energy and enthusiasm to a productive use and had eagerly presented his parents each evening with the results of his day's lessons with his tutor, beaming with pride. Orion always received his bits of parchment with their untidy scrawls in beginner's handwriting graciously, treating his son to an approving nod with each small but steady step forward in his academic progress.

Today, however, Orion had been absent from the daily evening audience with his sons. And perhaps, frivolous though it sounded to his more mature mindset, presenting his day's achievements to his mother alone was simply not enough for the boy. And so, in the darkness of the night, once the halls of Grimmauld Place were devoid of all that may stop him, Sirius had tip-toed out of his bedroom and journeyed down to the drawing room to wait in front of the fireplace for his father to return, so that his schoolwork may receive his fatherly approval.

Orion couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stared down at his son, fast asleep before him on the hearth rug.

"Silly boy" he murmured under his breath with a shake of his head, as he carefully folded the piece of parchment in his hand and deposited it safely inside the inner pocket of his robes.

Gently easing his arms underneath the little boy's curled-up body, Orion lifted Sirius up into his arms and rose to his feet.

The desensitising spell did its work dutifully, for the boy did not so much as stir in his father's arms as he was carried out of the drawing room and up the staircase towards his bedroom. Orion stepped lightly along the hallway, passed the softly-snoring, mercifully sleeping portraits, until he reached the very end, where two identical doors faced each other.

The left door, behind which the younger of his two sons slept peacefully, was ever-so-slightly ajar, so that the five-year-old boys' governess may hear him from her room further along should he awake in the night, as he so often did, sniffling from a childish fear of the dark.

The right door, bearing the name of the elder son, was swung wide open from when its owner had flung it aside in pursuit of his endeavour.

Stepping inside, Orion cast a lick of flame onto the bedside candle, bathing the room in a warm, orange-y glow.

The father couldn't help but sigh at the state of his son's room. Toys lay scattered about the floor, as they so often did, carelessly discarded once their owner had exhausted them of amusement. Sirius was constantly being reprimanded for his mess and warned to put his things away when he was done with them. But alas, Sirius's parents were quickly discovering that their eldest son did not possess the patience to deal with the aftermath of his pleasures before quickly moving on to devour the next.

Treading carefully so as to avoid the items of play scattered about (the little carved family of hippogriffs in their model pen, the little figure of a wizard on a miniature broom which would zoom about the room of its own accord, the fairy tale book still flung open on the tale of The Little Lost Dragon, to name but a few), Orion carried Sirius across to his bed, the boy's head lolling against his shoulder, still fast asleep.

The bed covers were thrown wide open across the bed from where Sirius had dug himself out from the spot in which he's been deposited earlier than evening and had been expected to stay until the morning

Leaning down slightly, Orion pressed his palm to the mattress to inspect the warmth of the bed. Stone cold, the magically-warmed sheets having grown cold in Sirius's absence.

Orion was suddenly all the more aware of the slight shivering of his son's small body against his own, and of the cold, November rain still belting against the window from outside.

Shaking his head and sighing once more, Orion wordlessly waved his wand at the bed, warming the bedding once more. He then pressed his hand to the bed again, satisfied to find it suitably warm. Orion carefully lowered his son down onto the bed, still wrapped in his blanket, taking care to position him in the curled-up position he had found the boy in, common sense would suggest that, despite appearances, the boy probably found this position somewhat comfortable.

As he pulled the newly-warmed covers up over his son, tucking them snugly around his neck, Orion's mind wandered to the amusing thought of what a spectacle he was making of himself. The patriarch in all but name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, fussing over a child in such a womanly way. How unbecoming.

But what else was he to do? He could hardly leave the boy where he'd found him, curled up on the drawing room floor, trembling from cold like a little lost puppy.

As he finished tucking his son into bed, Orion's eyes caught sight of a mass of soft, tan fur, laying discarded across the bed.

"What would my father say?" Orion mused to himself in disbelief as he found himself reaching for the stuffed toy wampus and carefully tucking it under his sleeping son's arm.

After gently lifting his son's head to tuck a pillow underneath it, Orion finally deemed his work here complete and lifted the spell which kept Sirius immune to the risk of awakening.

Unnervingly, the moment the spell was lifted, the boy shifted slightly under his bedding and let out a slight whimper in his sleep. To his father's relief, however, Sirius did not wake.

Thank goodness.

Orion indulged himself in a few moments longer spent watching his son sleep. How peaceful Sirius looked in his slumber. How favourable his young features were, when his face was not blemished with a stubborn scowl. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Sirius at last, Orion snuffed out the bedside candle and turned away from his son's bedside, leaving him to sleep soundly.

Once he had safely navigated the minefield that was his son's bedroom floor and eased the door closed, Orion at last breathed a sigh of relief. His task was complete. He could practically hear the sanctuary of his study and whiskey decanter calling him.

Closing the door to his study firmly behind him, Orion silently lit the candles scattered at strategic points around the room with a flick of his wand.

He unfastened his cloak and hung it upon the coat stand beside the door for the elf to clean and tidy away tomorrow. He then strode over to his desk and sunk himself deep into the comfort of his chair, a plush, deep forest green affair which he could safely declare was quite the most comfortable seat in the house.

As his gaze wandered downward towards his desk top, Orion spotted a neatly folded square of parchment placed before him, bearing his name in a familiar, elegant cursive. A note from his wife, delivered for him to find upon his return from Malfoy Manor. Walburga knew her husband far too well to suppose that perhaps Orion would not visit his study before retiring for the night.

Orion poured himself a helping of whiskey from the crystal decanter, embossed with the family crest, and took a generous sip before unfolding the note from his wife.

Orion,

It is with great disappointment that I have to inform you of our son's misbehaviour this evening. In your absence, Sirius Orion presented himself in a most sullen mood when brought down to say goodnight this evening, speaking most rudely towards me and behaving quite unacceptably, reducing himself to fits of shouting and going so far as to attempt to kick my leg when told that he would not be permitted to remain out of bed until you returned from your visit to the Malfoys.

I'm sure you will agree that such appalling conduct cannot be allowed to go unpunished. I would suggest you give some thought to the matter of a suitable punishment for Sirius's behaviour. I will arrange for him to be sent to your study after breakfast in the morning to receive your decision.

With affectionate regards,

Your wife,

Walburga Black

Orion's grey eyes flitted over the words of his wife's letter, pondering with some degree of amusement, as he always did on receipt of her notes, how very formal she always conducted her written words, even when composing a simple late-night note to her husband.

With Walburga's words running through his mind, Orion reached inside his inner robes pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of parchment he had found clutched in his son's hand on the drawing room floor. Placing it on the desk, he smoothed out the creased and examined the shaky drawings of the family's constellations.

The boy had not told his mother his reasoning for wishing to be permitted to stay awake to greet his father. Walburga surely would have mentioned it in her letter, thorough in her reports regarding their son as she always was. Orion supposed he should make the true meaning of Sirius's actions clear to his mother over breakfast.

But then... how would he possibly explain to his wife, by whom he was showed not only the affection, but the respect a husband was owed, that he had not summoned the boy's governess, nor even the house elf, as custom would dictate? How would he look his wife in the eye over the breakfast table and tell her with dignity that he had tucked the boy into bed himself, fussing over him like a mere nursemaid?

No. It would not do.

And then there was Sirius himself. What to do with the boy? Orion was not as unjust a man as to punish his six-year-old son for the simple crime of wishing to show his father his well-learned lesson in family custom.

But then, precisely what alternative course of action was available to him? He couldn't possibly reward the boy with a compliment on his work, now. To do so would be to go so far as to reward his misdemeanours, however well meaning they may be.

No, it would not do, either.

The entire incident was better left to fade into the past as the night faded to dawn, as it would in due course.

Orion glanced at the clock on the mantle, the clock face framed by the carved, wooden facade of an augerey (a lukewarmly-received gift from his father for his thirtieth birthday).

Half-past twelve.

The bulk of the night was passed, morning would approach before long, and the challenges of the new day which came with it.

Swallowing the remainder of his whiskey, Orion sighed once more, as he so often did when pondering matters pertaining to his tempestuous wife and troublesome son.

Walburga would be told at breakfast that the incident was passed. Dealt with. The ins and outs of which were not her affair. She had informed her husband, as was her role, and he had judged the case and considered it closed. He may have to deal with a few sullen looks from his wife over the course of the following day, but no doubt their son would soon concoct some other means with which the earn himself a punishment that would placate her.

Orion picked up the piece of parchment and walked across the length of his study to the bookcase in which he kept a series of identical and indistinguishable leather folders.

His knowing eye reached for the exact folder he required (no one could possibly commit the exact use for each folder as well as the order in which they were stored to memory as their owner).

Inside the folder, in start contrast to the sleek official appearance of the leather folder, was stored a collection of crumpled sheets of parchment, each one bearing drawings and childish scrawls in pencil. A collection of drawings presented to him over the years by both of his sons, as well as the more recent editions - pieces of Sirius's schoolwork which the little boy had proudly presented to his father during their evening audiences before bed, and which Orion had taken from him with an approving nod, "for further inspection".

With Sirius's daily offering to him safely filed away, Orion replaced the leather folder back into its slot on the bookcase and turned to extinguish the candlelight from the room.

Worn out by the night's exhausting events, Orion Black treated himself to a wide, undignified yawn as he turned to leave his study, locking the door firmly behind him as he headed to bed, the sound of the late November rain clattering heavily against the windows of his house ringing loudly in his ears.


End file.
